DISCOMBLOGUMALATED

It's not that I couldn't be arsed, it's just ...

Not having a computer at home, I write and blog during lunch or whenever I get the chance for a break. However, a whole bunch of things now appear to have been blocked for access and Blogspots are one of them, so I can't log in to Blogger from work or make comments on Google Blogspots anymore.

Which is fine, I guess. I don't mind. What am I going to do, complain? "Hey, let me log in to Blogger from work during lunchtime or whenever so I don't have to waste an hour reading the type of trivial drivel that passes for news these days".

I don't think so. I just couldn't be arsed.

Perhaps it's about time I did get a computer at home. Thing is, I can't see the point of paying close to a thousand bucks for a lump of machinery that becomes obsolete within a year of purchase. And then there's all the ancillary costs, such as broadband connections and software and shit.

I did have a computer at home when I first moved up to Brisbane, but it went belly up about 2 years ago. It was old. And I didn't really care when it went belly up. There was nothing on it of tangible worth. That's the thing with computers. We just fill them up with shit and think all the shit we've filled them up with means something.

It doesn't. It's just shit. Lots and lots of shit.

And I spend my entire working day staring at a fucking computer and I'm not sure I want the temptation of spending entire weeknights and weekends staring at a fucking computer when I could be reading a fucking book or watching a fucking movie instead. Or playing with the next door neighbours fucking cat. He can be quite the entertaining little feller, the next door neighbours fucking cat. He likes to eat bugs.

So.

I moved over here.

See? I can't decide on a template there, either. They have a limited number and they're all fairly static. Can't change colours and fonts and stuff.

And I sorta, kinda couldn't be arsed there. Not right now, anyway. Because I sorta, kinda grew comfy with the way things looked and felt here. You see? It's red and swollen here and if you stare at it long enough, it throbs. I like that.

So I'm blogging from the local internet cafe. Next to the train station.

Shit, eh?

I guess if I had a girlfriend, I'd be out doing useful things. Those useful things that couples do.

But I don't want a girlfriend. I'm old and tired and cranky and I have commitment issues.

George Clooney has commitment issues.

If I was George Clooney, I'd be fine with that. Who the fuck wouldn't want to be George Clooney? With commitment issues? So you're George Clooney and you have commitment issues? Such a life you have. I should have such a life, he writes with the slight, but distinct inflection of a Bronx mensch.

Did you know there’s a company in Michigan called “Mensch Manufacturing”. They make manure vacuums.

Shit, eh?

I understand women have problems with men who have problems with issues of commitment which must be a problem if you’re a woman looking for commitment. I guess if you’re a woman and you want kids with a man who has commitment issues, you’d have cause to have a bad case of the shplikes. Unless you’re a yutzi meeskite, in which case your lot in life is bupkis.

But I’m not a woman. So I don’t care. You think you have problems? Your problems I should have.

A klog is mir, you should try living with a shmeckle.

Feh.